


Cutting Class

by kaylynnkie



Series: Center Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, BDSM, F/M, Gender Roles, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylynnkie/pseuds/kaylynnkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is supposed to be attending his Citizen Class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Class

“Next week the class will be taught by another caseworker from the Center,” she said simply.

Jensen barely looked up from the desk. He was waiting for the instructions to thank her and leave.

“However, before you go I want to quickly go over the Citizen's Creed and The Weakness. Who can recite the Creed?”

No one raised a hand. Instead they waited for her to nod and spoke in unison:

 

“ _It is my purpose to serve._

_Freedom is selfish._

_Obedience is unity._

_Safety is the State.”_

 

Her face was set and there was nothing so much as a smile. She nodded briskly at them.

“Yes. That's right. But,” she tapped a pen against her teeth, “none of you are very good at following any of the words you just said.”

It's wasn't a question. No one answered.

“To question the State is selfish and silly. When you do that, you expose yourself and others to violence and abuse. When you break the law,” she paused for a very long time letting the statement hang in the air, looking carefully at each one of them. There was a blankness in her eyes that made Jensen afraid. “When you break the law, you hurt yourself. You are the State and the State is you.” She smiled. “Dismissed. Take care.”

~

Jensen had been expressly forbidden from leaving the Harris Manor for the duration of 'until further notice'. It wasn't the worst punishment that had ever been imposed on his, but the interior of the house was stifling. Nice was sitting on the kitchen counter toying with Jensen's hair with her claws. She was a tiny little kitten that had followed Jensen home of off the tram one evening and never left. After his class, she was the only one he ever felt inclined to spend any time with. She didn't yell at him or look at him with disappointment. She was his friends just because of who he was. That he fed her was probably directly related, but he didn't let that aspect of their relationship bother him.

He didn't have another appointment with the Center for two more weeks and the pain was barely noticeable except for some pain in his lower back, which worried him. He stood up much to Nice's chagrin and stretched out slowly. It was nice outside, and he went upstairs to grab his art supplies for an afternoon outside.

~

A Pleasure Session was the best part of a caseworker's week. There were only two days the Center scheduled them: Monday and Friday. Jared came back to work on Monday . He smiled as he greeted co-workers and picked up his roster from the circulation desk. He checked and started heading immediately for the pleasure dungeon in the basement. One of his favorites was here today.

She was waiting by the table, naked with her head down. She didn't even sneak a glance when he walked in.

“How have you been, Pet?”

The nickname made her shiver with pleasure and anticipation. “Well, Sir. I missed you,” she added shyly.

He smiled. “Safeword?”

“Ice.”

“Very well.” He cleared his throat loudly and hardened his features.

She trembled in front of him and began to tremble.

“Have you been a slut?”

She shook her head, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. “You're lying to me. You've touched yourself and let other people touch you. You belong to me. _I_ decide when you come. _I_ decide who touches you. You think you're better than I am?” he asked sliding his hand between her legs.

She shifted uneasily and tried to clench up her thighs. He slapped the flesh cruelly.

“You don't like when I touch you?”

“No, Sir! I-”

“You don't like that then?” he whispered, sliding his finger into her entrance. She was dripping. “Did you get yourself ready for me?” He was a little surprised. She had always been nervous about touching herself. “Your pussy is _soaked_.”

She bowed her head blushing a little. “You asked me to, Sir. Last time. When we were together.”

He rewarded her with a loving stroke to her cheek. “Very well, Pet. Perhaps, you do deserve some attention.” She glowed. “Over to the wall. Hands up.”

She rushed forward eagerly, her blonde falling into her eyes as she hurried to obey. When her hands where up over head, he snatched them up in one of his and attached cuffs around her wrists. They were padded, but it didn't make it all that much more comfortable. She had to stand on the very tips of her toes, but she loved how she had to strain, and he enjoyed when she was enjoying what was happening to her. He left her there until she started straining against her bonds and panting. Only a little denial, and she was already begging.

“Cheap whore,” he mocked grabbing the chain attached to the cuffs and forcing her against the wall.

He shoved his knee between her legs, and she whimpered.

“Go ahead. Get yourself off.” When she eagerly started humping his leg, he gripped one of her ass cheeks. “One rule. You don't get to _finish_ until I say. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” she gasped.

“That means even if you come. I'm going to keep pushing you.” She was riding him earnestly, bucking against the clothe and crying out. “Are you going to come?”

“Sir, I...” She clenched her legs together and leaned heavily on him. “I...I'll wait, Sir.”

“Good idea.” He waited until she was back on her toes. “I'll be right back.”

He walked over to a table laden with whips, chains, paddles and every imaginable sex toy. He selected an interestingly shaped vibrator, a pair of nipple clamps with a chain in the middle, a silk blindfold and a gag. He thought about taking one of the small silver rings, but he didn't think she was ready for that kind of play yet. He pocketed the clamps.

When he returned, he reached between her legs to find that her juices were running with the sweet smelling lube she loved so much.

“Oh, Kitten.”

She was trying to respectfully watch him as he set the toys down on a closer table set into the wall and pressed against the cool concrete, shivering in anticipation.

“You're not to speak except when I speak to you and, of course, your safeword. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her eyes were blown, almost black with lust.

He pinched one of her pert nipples and when she arched into his touch, he slid the plug into her. She moaned trying alternately to push against the stimulants and pull away. Once the plug was completely inside, he reached up and took her cuffs off the hook. Using the rope to guide her into a different position. She faced him and he slid the blindfold over her eyes, tying it loosely around the back of her head.

“Touch your toes.”

When she complied, he fastened the cuffs to a metal ring attached to a low part of the wall. She was straining a little and tensing her back too much. He kicked her legs apart and heard a grateful sigh of relief _._

“You've been a naughty pet, Kitten. You know I don't like when my pets don't listen, and I was told that you got yourself off in the bathroom before coming in here.” She gasped. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Go on. You can say.”

She cleared her throat and wiggled around a little before speaking. “I'm sorry, Sir. I was...excited about seeing you. When they told me you were coming back, I...I got wet.” She added in a tiny voice. “I was ashamed.”

Jared frowned. _This_ was her problem.

“Why do you hide all of these things from me? Don't you come here for correction? I'm here to help you, Kitten. I'm not here to humiliate you. Not you,” he whispered softly.

She started to cry. “I'm sorry, Sir. I w-w-wanted to be p-perfect for you.” She didn't look at him and kept her eyes on the ground, chest heaving with sobs and gasps. Her tears streaked down her cheeks and fell on the floor.

“What do you say, Pussycat?”

It took her a minute to get it together before, “Please, discipline me, Sir. I need you to.”

“Very well, Pet. I think that 15 minutes with the paddle will be sufficient.”

“That's all?”

He grinned even though she couldn't see. “That's all with the paddle, Pet.”

She groaned and strained a little against the cuffs. “ _Yes, Sir_ ”

He lifted the paddle off the table and raised his hand waiting just long enough for the tension to go out of her. The paddle was a favorite. It was made of a smooth polished cherry that was just soft enough to give a little bit when he used it. His pretty girl yelped at the very first blow, then groaned and rode out strike after strike after strike. The plug inside of her was shifting as he spanked her, and he occasionally reached down to twist it and thrust it. She grunted and cursed when he twisted it in a full circle. It felt so big inside, and she could feel her orgasm building in her belly. After a while, she was moving with the blows steadily and when he paused to run his hand over her swollen sex, he found that she was dripping with need.

“That all for me, Pussy?”

She groaned loudly, trying to rub against his big hands. “Sir. Yes. Love your hands, Sir.” She said breathlessly.

“Alright, Pet. One more thing, then I want to see if you can come.”

He unlocked the chain attaching her to the wall, then led her over to a bench. He turned the vibrator on full force immediately. Her legs trembled and she panted. Blind now, he guided her to sit down on the plug buried inside and attached her cuffs to another low hanging ceiling hook about level with his waist. She whined when her sore rear connected with the rough wood. He reached into his pocket for the clamps and pinched at her nipples until they were erect.

“Sir?” she murmured.

“Pet,” he sighed, “what about our talking rule?”

“I'm scared, Sir.”

He continued to pinch her nipple until she surrendered to his grip on her. “I''m right here, Pet. I'll take care of you here. Quiet now and spread your legs.”

She obeyed and he slid one of his denim clad legs between hers. When the clamps closed down on her nipples, she gasped in shock. It was entertaining to watch her strain against the sting without actually being able to get away. She panted and tugged at the cuffs until she gave up and sagged in them.

“Now, I'm going to help you come.”

He stood behind her and pressed down on her thighs, forcing her down on the vibrator. She screamed when it impaled her fully and tried to fight his grip on her, but he was too strong. When the tension in her legs relaxed, he reached around and gripped her swollen sex in one closed fist.

“My pussy's aching for it, isn't she?” he cooed.

“Yes, Sir!” she cried.

He pumped her ruthlessly, her rigid column of flesh pulsing in his hand. “Your pussy's so hard,” he whispered into her ear. “I want to see you come, you dirty slut. Come for me.”

She leaned against Jared's chest and shrieked her way through her orgasm. When it was all over, she was limp and helpless against him and his hand was covered in her sticky spending.

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.

He smiled and whispered back, “You're welcome, Pet.”

~

Jared waited outside the showers for Chad to come out. When the other man saw him, he blushed. “Hello, Sir.”

“We're not in a scene right now. Call me Jared.”

The blonde smiled. “Okay. What are you doing down here, S- Jared?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said seriously. “Do you have a little time to go grab some coffee or something?”

“Sure.”

~

The coffee bar was a five minute walk from the Center, and it was only because Chad had been his last appointment of the day that he had decided to bring him here. Jared had been thinking about this for a long time, and he decided that now was the time.

When their coffees and pastries arrived, they grabbed a seat in a booth. Chad wasn't looking at him.

“Is there something wrong, Jared?”

“Not wrong exactly. Chad, you've been doing great in your sessions, but I wonder if this is the best thing for you right now.”

“What do you mean?”

He scratched his chin carefully. “I know this is a choice thing, and no one's requiring you to be at the Center, but you just got married. This shouldn't be the place you come to when the stress of the job becomes too much for you.”

Chad didn't look happy at all, and he set the forkful of chocolate frosting down. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“No! Sweetheart, you are a wonderful submissive, but I'm not your _mate_. You have one of those at home.”

He looked away swallowing. “She'll think I'm disgusting. What kind of husband wants to be tied up and called a bitch? A woman?” He gave Jared a watery smile. “She deserves better.”

“You're right,” Jared said. “She deserves her _mate,_ the _truth_. What you're doing isn't fair to her. Sophia is a lovely person, and I'm certain that she will help give you what you need.”

“She won't understand-”

But Jared was shaking his head. “I won't be your master anymore. She's the one who should have you.”

He laid down a small silver key, and Chad's hand went to the thin leather chord around his neck and the small lock that hung from the soft material. Chad gasped.

“Sir?”

“Goodbye, Chad. If you want to come back to the Center, then I expect Sophia to be with you.”

He picked up his coffee and tart, but before he left, he paused. After a brief hesitation, he leaned down and kissed Chad's cheek tenderly.

“I'll miss you, Pussycat.”

~

Jensen was sitting on a stone wall located on the very edge of the property. He could see the shoreline from here and stood on his tiptoes, imagining that he was flying through the salty air and falling through the icy cold. Darkness would envelope him and pull him close. His breath would falter and stop before the nothingness. It made him feel safe, but, to his horror, the darkness dissolved into a hand reaching for him, pulling him up through the ice, the pain and held him in a consuming warmth. He froze and opened his eyes.

There was nothing there. Just the heat of a memory and a desire he knew better than to indulge in. He looked down at his sketches strewn around him. A swell of pride filled his chest. He could do this. This was all that mattered, and he tucked the plans away for later.

Danneel was home when he walked in the door. “Where have you been?” she asked gently. “Did you get any drawing done?”

He shrugged.

Trying to conceal her excitement, she asked, “Can I see?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head.

She frowned and swatted at him playfully but turned back to dinner. They were having fish and rice. He could smell the butter and the garlic she used.

“I know you must be bored, so I stopped by the store and picked up some of those pencils you like.”

He couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice. “The Prism ones?”

“That's what they gave me.” She grinned. “I guess they've been worried about you. Nat and Marc were asking for you. Nat especially. I think she's got a crush on you.”

“Doesn't matter,” he said seeing the bag on the table and going over to extract his pencils from the brown paper. “She's got Marc to protect her from me. Crazy big brother,” he laughed. “She's better off with someone like that guy in accounting that you work with.”

“Neil? Nah.” She paused. “No one's heard from...Misha in a really long time. The last time anyone saw him was before your trial. And Vikki, too. They've gone off the radar.”

“That so?” He grinned. “I hope they made it.”

“Helluva rabble-rouser,” she murmured affectionately. “Dinner in 5, and I invited Gwen. So, behave yourself.”

He arched an eyebrow in the most playful way she had seen in months. “Well, if Gwen will be here...”

“Bite me, Jenny!” she snarled throwing a wooden spoon at him as he rushed up the stairs with his sketchbook and pencils clutched safely against his chest.

Gwen was quite possibly Jensen's favorite person in the world - after Danneel of course. Danni was fierce and protective, but Gwen was kind and generous. With everyone. She loved the world and it always pained her to serve the State when it asked her to hurt people. That's why she didn't work at the Center anymore. Only slaves and cowards worked there she had explained to Jensen when he had asked her why she wouldn't go back. Once upon a time, she had been the head surgeon in the biggest hospital in the State. She had written famous papers and designed amazing devices that could alter biology. In dogs, she had figured out how to reverse the effects of certain blood disease. Her devices were still used by the State, and it was one of the reasons she was allowed to live and do as she chose. The State respected her intelligence and demeanor.

She rarely spoke now, and it was a tragedy in Jensen's opinion. She had a beautiful way of speaking that not many other people possessed. There was an elegance about her that drew the attention of others without her being forceful.

“Good evening, Gwen.”

Her smile was tight. “Hello, Jensen. How are you feeling?”

“Better. The salve helped. Thanks.”

Danni swung her new plastic spoon at them. “Dinner's getting cold! Come. Sit!”

She manhandled Jensen into his seat while Gwen sat down quietly. A glass of red wine was at her place.

“Danni?”

The younger woman looked up, a pink blush staining her cheeks. “What is it?”

“You bought my favorite.” Danni nodded. “It's very expensive.” Danni shrugged. “Thank you.” Both women smiled broadly.

Jensen coughed loudly as he drank the water at his place. How either of them drank something so sweet was beyond him. Danni glared, but Gwen kept smiling that small smile of hers. It was truly something to behold.

Once Danni was seated at the table, she took each of their hands in hers and Jensen grabbed onto Gwen. She spoke slowly and respectfully.

“Thank you for this lovely meal, a warm place to sleep and eat, good friends and family to share it with, and another day together. Amen.”

“Amen,” they repeated.

Gwen asked without looking up from the salad bowl she was currently unloading onto her plate, “How was work?”

“Another crazy client. These people are ridiculous. I completed most of the...”

Jensen drifted away from their conversation. Danni worked at Wolfram Arts and Design, an art firm funded by the State for people who had an inclination towards creating things, people like Jensen. There were plenty of other types of artists there, too. Painters, sculptors, seamstresses, architects and the list went on. He had never met any other artists there, though. The State was careful about letting their artistic wonders actually encounter each other. They seemed to think that it was highly likely that these people would start to plot against each other if they ever gathered together.

He wouldn't have met Misha if it wasn't for Danni, and then he wouldn't have met Jeff or Sam. They would have all blended into the faceless crowds. He remembered Misha fondly. There was something so special and wonderful about him and his wife. They were the whole reason he had started to question the State so openly. If Vikki had not shown him the inconsistencies in the papers and the if Misha had not taught him to listen to how all the State officials spoke, then Jensen would have likely followed their commands blindly.

He watched Danni chat eagerly with Gwen and smiled sadly. So, that's why she was looking so guilty all the time.

~

Jensen filled his days with painting and drawing. After a week at Danni's, he had packed up and gotten on the tram to head across town. He loved her with all of his heart, but he needed...space, a place to be alone with his thoughts. There were four large canvases set up all around the flat. One in the hall, one in the living area and two in his studio room. He liked to keep his projects together, but this was going to be different. He didn't want the canvases to look at each other. He kept the two in his studio in opposite ends of the room, facing away from each other. The apartment smelled of paint and charcoal even when he opened the window and let in the smell of freezing rain. There was still an undercurrent of something that Jensen had come to associate with art. He had been trapped in that place of creation for a long while now, and he rarely stopped to bathe or eat. Sleep was secondary, and he only stopped when he couldn't hold a brush or his inks steady. The days began to blend together until all that mattered was finishing it, giving his creations life and making them more than just images on canvas.

He was pouring himself a cup of coffee when the phone rang, which was peculiar because he thought he had unplugged it. Although, it was just as likely that he had simply sketched an unplugged phone or dreamed about unplugging a phone. Still, no time like the present. He reached over the coffeepot and pulled the cord out of the wall. The shrill sound went away, and he smiled. Coffee safely cradled against his chest, he went out to the hall to work on the shadow of a building he was currently transfixed with.

~

While Jensen was sitting on his hallway floor, at the Community Hall in the center of the city, there was a group of people sitting at hardwood desks and listening as a tall man with brown hair lectured them on the true meaning of control. The tall man rubbed his chin thoughtfully at their silence.

“Can anyone here define what it means to control someone?”

The students shifted uneasily. This hadn't been in their assignment. No one wanted to say the wrong answer, but maybe this instructor didn't like it when he was ignored. The tall man sensed their distress and raised his hand in a placating gesture.

“Don't worry. I'm going to assume that most of you are here because you don't understand that the State is trying to help you, that control,” he paused long enough for the word to hang in the air, “can be a very good thing.

Control is about surrender, and when you surrender, it's **you** who has all the power. Isn't that something? The power comes from all of you. You trust the State to keep you safe, and it does. I know sometimes it doesn't seem that way, but remember our childhoods? They were dark and scary. I know mine was. There weren't any adults that kept us safe.

But the State was there for us, for all of us, and even if you haven't embraced the ideals, it will be patient with you. With all of you. So, for now, I'm right here to help all of you through this.” He smiled proudly and a few of the students smiled tentatively back.

“Thank you for your attention. I'd like to play you a video and then we'll talk about it a little bit. That fair?”

The class was captivated by the screen. True the video wasn't on the approved list of teaching materials for Citizenship Classes, but Jared was alright with that. The story unfolding on the screen was that of a young woman, who indulged in a game that was responsible for killing other young citizens. It was a story that blended fantasy and reality, the ideal and the actual. It was on the black list, but Jared had uncovered a copy in the archives and simply borrowed it without telling anyone else.

“We only have a few minutes, so I'll be brief. Ash is all of you. You are her story, and you see how she suffers. The State doesn't want anyone of you to suffer. This is just a film, but it makes an interesting point. Even at the end of the film, Ash refuses to learn her lesson. That we can't always be in control all of the time, that it is sometimes necessary to trust others. I want you to think about why Ash is a failure.

Don't forget to sign the roster on your way out!” he smiled. “Have a great evening.”

A few of the students looked sideways at him and others gave him bright smiles. Once everyone was gone, he had gathered all of his lecture notes and secured the video in the bottom of his briefcase. He briefly skimmed over the clipboard and frowned. Jensen Ackles was on the list, but he hadn't signed the roster.

~

It had taken him weeks, but the five pieces were done. Jensen had set them up in a long line along the black wall in the living room and was sitting in from of them, covered in paint and clutching a cup of coffee, wondering what the point of doing any of this had been.

“Why weren't you in class?”

Jensen jumped and spilled half the sup on himself in the process. Why was _Jared_ standing in the middle of his living room?

“I-um..What class, Sir?” he asked blankly and gnawed on his lower lip nervously.

Jared frowned and sighed deeply. “There was a citizenship class today, and your name was on the roster. However, you were not there. Explain why not.”

He looked at Jared with a slight tilt of his head and looked quickly at the canvases along the wall. “I was working. I lost track of time. I didn't mean to...What day is it?”

“Your sentence only stands so long as a caseworker endorses it. Something I learned the second time I had to file your paperwork.” His frown deepened, and Jensen noticed the large black valise in his hand. He shivered a little. “Skipping your classes is completely inexcusable.”

“But, Jared, I didn't mean to,” he murmured softly.

“That's not the point.” He set the case down and finally seemed to take notice of the canvases on the far wall. “These...Jensen, this is high treason.”

“It's art,” he snapped. “It's me.”

Jared was shaking his head. “Why would you waste your talent on this...abomination?”

“All due respect, Sir, but fuck you.”

The caseworker turned and gave him a curious look. Jensen wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but he did fully expect Jared to cross the room and backhand him. When the slap didn't come, he waited.

“Very well. Before I remedy the grievous error caused by your absence, you will explain your 'art' to me.” Jared's tone was clipped, and Jensen felt a thrill of fear go through him at the realization that he was the one making Jared angry.

He looked so _passionate_. Jensen wanted to pull out his sketchbook and capture the intensity of his face forever in ink. It was a beautiful thing, but there was a hint of danger in those eyes, so he quelled the excitement swirling in his belly and went up to the far wall.

The first piece was of a woman with long reddish brown hair visible only in profile. She had a collar around her neck and a leash was attached to the metal hook hanging off of it. There was a silhouette of the Center in the background, and she was smiling peacefully up at it. There was a white sheet wrapped around her stained with pink streaks and black dirt, but the back of it had fallen to her waist exposing a pattern of crossing lash marks that were a thin angry red. Blood ran down her thighs in rivulets.

Jensen cleared his throat before speaking. “This is for my friend Sam. ” He didn't say anything right away and Jared put his fist against his hip impatiently.

“And?”

“She's at the Center, too. Her caseworker raped her, but she didn't say anything to the receptionist. She wouldn't even go to the hospital. Gwen, you met her, she treated her at home because Sam wouldn't go. She said nobody would care about a woman who couldn't keep her mouth shut long enough to stay out the Center.” He reached out to touch the edge of the canvas, right where the colors of the Center's shadow blended into Sam's blood. “The Center breaks us. Sam was...She was amazing. Now, I'm not sure what she is. I don't like it, though.”

Jared didn't move as Jensen walked over to the next canvas. This one was a sketching done with inks and pencils. A crowd of men and women were watching a group of children shouting and playing. There was a high platform in the middle of their group, and a single child with dark hair and serious eyes was standing on it, gripping a podium in his tiny little hands. Several soldiers stood behind the platform and seemed to be marching towards the viewer. A single soldier must have been standing on steps because he was right behind the little boy, hiss hand almost touching his throat.

“Sam's husband, Jeff, he was a union organizer before it was outlawed by the State three years ago. One day, a soldier pulled him down off the podium before the legislation had even been announced and beat him half to death. There was bruising to his liver, and they shattered his kneecap. He can't walk without a cane anymore, and they make him watch Sam at the Center. He cries every single time they go.”

This canvas Jensen didn't touch. There was something foreboding about it. Jared liked it. He had seen Jeff in passing and recognized him now as the husband of the pretty young woman who had been whipped and strung up for an Article 3: Aiding and abiding in illegal acts. A man such as Jeff deserved a canvas like this.

“Why would you put so much work into something like this? You can't sell them or hang them. It seems like a such a waste.”

Jensen shook his head. “There's no such thing as a waste in art...Not to me.”

“This one?” Jared jutted his chin forward to the next one, a painting without a single person.

The artist grinned. “This is for Vikki.” He touched the corner fondly. “She was a reporter for the State. He husband was an architect, and they met in school many years ago and again when the State assigned them both to the Community Hall project in the lower city. They were married seven years ago.”

It was a simple work. A large old fashioned printing press was covered with a mixture of red and black, blood and ink. There was a shattered computer in the center, just below the large machine and paper was strewn about the entire piece.

“Did she write her own columns?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Pretty controversial stuff. I think that's why she and her husband got married. He could handle he strength, and she could handle him, too. I was always jealous of their love.”

“What happened to them?”

Jensen shrugged, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face. “Something good I hope.”

The next image was of two buildings. Jared recognized the one in the foreground as the Community Hall, but the one in the background wasn't familiar.

“What is this?”

“A church. My mother told me that people would go there to pray and worship God. It was a holy and respected place.”

Jared looked at the plain building thoughtfully. He could make out small windows of colored glass. “Like our Justice Hall?”

“I'm not entirely sure. I think they were more important than that. People...they went to a church to...They believed in something.”

Jared looked Jensen up and down. “Like The Law?”

“Different than that,” he said wistfully. “More special.”

He looked at the canvas more closely. There was a lot more going on in this one than in the other ones. A soldier was hammering a sign onto the 'church' that read 'Closed to Better the Citizenry,' and there was a fire that could be seen in one of the second story windows. It made the stained glass glitter and sparkle, and how Jensen had made that happen Jared couldn't even imagine. There was a long line in front of the Community Hall. Citizen were entering in one door angry and clutching onto white envelopes that read SUMMONS and were leaving through another door with fearful smiles plastered on their faces. The envelopes they left with read VERDICT.

“Who is this for?”

“Danni.” He pointed to the church. “She talks about places like this. Once she told me that people would go inside to pray to a God for protection, a God that loved them. I...” he looked away, “I don't think she's right about that one, but she believes. She inspired this one. It's hers.”

He turned to Jared suddenly. “Why are you asking me all this? You don't care what I think. All of this,” he spread his arms wide. “All of this means nothing to you. Why do you care?”

_It was enough to distract you from **me**_.

Instead, he said, “It's curious that you would indulge in something like this. That puts your life on the line. You missed a simple three hour class to indulge in fantasy and make believe.”

“It isn't so simple!” he snarled twisting around to face him. “Everything I draw is _mine_. My creations! Have you ever made something? Really made something? It's amazing and wonderful. These aren't just art projects! They're memories of the people I love.”

Do you love Jared?” he asked suddenly quiet. “Has anyone ever held you in their arms and whispered in your ear? Have you ever held anyone?”

They were both hyper aware of how close they were. Barely an inch between them. All Jared needed to do was take a single step forward, and he'd trap Jensen in the circle of his arms.

“That's irrelevant. Telling me about these...things is part of your reformation. You skipped class and amends must be made. Finish.”

The final canvas had to be Jensen's portrait. It was another sketching. Colored with pencils this time. Red, black and white. Shades of gray blended everything together. It was a view of a wooden desktop and a hand attached to an arm that couldn't be seen beyond the limits of the canvas. A long thin cut ran across the back of the hand. There was a pen clasped in the fingers and a handwritten note. The barrel of a gun could be seen at the right corner vanishing into the frame. The note looked dingy, tear stained. The handwriting was difficult to make out. At the bottom, right above the artist's signature was the word Freedom underlined three times.

“This is you,” Jared said softly.

“This is what I wish I could be,” Jensen corrected.

“I should have filed a vagabond report when I noticed that you weren't in class.”

He cocked his head. “Why didn't you?”

Jared smiled wickedly. “My methods are more persuasive than anything the Center could come up with.” He stepped forward and trapped Jensen against the wall of his chest. “I could leave if you want me to, but I'd have to file.”

“And if you stay?” Jensen's eyes were on the valise.

“If I stay, then _I_ get to make the rules, Mr. Ackles. Everything you do, say and feel will be completely up to me.” He added thoughtfully, “On the upside you don't have to go back to court and risk a sentence increase or a complete reversal and imprisonment. Not even Danni could save you then.”

Jensen fisted Jared's shirt. “Stay.”

“I'd hoped you'd say that.”

~

It was raining the first time Jared went to bed with his case. The sun had sunk and twilight illuminated the bedroom with muted yellows and oranges. Jensen was laying down on his back, tense with fear and apprehension.

“Hush,” Jared smoothed his lips over the back of Jensen's neck. “Don't be afraid. I won't hut you. Take off your shirt.”

Jensen took a few deep breaths before undoing the buttons of the garment and shrugging it off. Jared planted his hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him back down.

“I want to taste you,” he said before bringing his lips into contact with Jensen's

The other man stiffened but didn't move away. The kiss was dry but smooth. He wondered absently if Jared used chapstick. He was surrounded by Jared's scent and it was so different from what he thought it would be. Jared smelled like sweat and sugar, like coffee and warmth with soap in the background and shaving cream. He whimpered and felt a familiar heat deep in his belly.

There was no way Jared _couldn't_ feel that against his abdomen. If he did, though, he didn't give any indication that it was unwanted.

“Would you like me to hold you?”

He groaned softly when the caseworker closed his lips over a nipple and merely sucked. His legs bowed and wrapped around the other man's waist. He licked it before moving to the other and suckling it. Jensen wriggled underneath him, an rubbed at the hard muscles against his straining erection as best as he could through the denim of his jeans.

“Or,” Jared continued, “Would you like to hold me?”

He begged pitifully, “Please, Sir. Can you...”

“Jared, 67. Call me Jared.”

He mumbled something Jared didn't quite catch. Jared bit his collarbone.

“I didn't quite catch that, darling. What did you say?”

“Jensen. I'm Jensen,” he managed to gasp out as Jared began undoing the fly of his jeans. “Not 67.”

He tugged Jensen's jeans down and pulled them off with his underwear and dropped them both over the side of the bed.

“You're very pretty, Jensen. Even that first time I ever saw you naked I knew you were pretty.”

He flushed at the memory and the fear it forced him to re-live. “You frighten me.”

He plunged his tongue into Jensen's mouth in a deep forceful kiss that made everything in Jensen burn to _submit_.

“That so?” He smiled. “I should.”

He bent his head down and licked along his length. Jensen arched against his tongue before falling back against the sheets. It was too much. Wet and hot. Everything was so _intense._

“Maybe I should just hold you down.” He pinned Jensen's wrists against the bed.

Jensen's eyes were dark, and he could just make out a thin rim of green framing the black. When he slip his mouth down around the aching flesh, Jensen threw his head back and groaned a low deep sound that went straight to Jared's cock and made him shudder. When Jensen's hips jerked in a weak thrust, Jared encouraged him to move, sliding his hand under the older man's thigh and forcing him in deeper. His orgasm was bitter, pouring down Jared's throat in spurts of hot fluid.

He held him in his mouth until Jensen whined and pushed against the hand around his wrist. Only then did Jared pull of.

Jared made to roll off the bed and grab the jacket he had discarded on the way in the bedroom, but Jensen reached for him.

“Not yet. Don't go.”

Jared looked at him quizzically and raised a single eyebrow. It wasn't long before he had a lap full of artist.

“Here,” Jensen said still coming down from his orgasm. “Let me.”

He reached for Jared, but the other man batted his hand away.

“Why not?”

His smile was cryptic. “Control.”

~

Jared pulled on his jacket just as the sun was coming up. Streams of sunlight bathed his body, and Jensen watched in fascination.

“Will that ever happen again?”

“I don't know. I...” he trailed off. “Damn!”

“What is it?”

“There's something I keep meaning to tell you. Ah well.” He winked. “You want to hear it now?”

Jensen stood up, still naked and wrapped his arms around Jared. “Come back and tell me.” He pressed his lips firmly against Jared's, slipping his tongue inside. “Next time.”

“Next time,” Jared whispered back.

Jensen stood by the window and watched Jared drive back into the real world as the sun rose up bringing another day with it. He pressed the tips of his fingers to the glass.

_Yes, Sir._

 


End file.
